


Wait Some More

by InkSplodge



Category: Endeavour (TV)
Genre: Episode: s04e02 Canticle, Feelings Realization, Forehead Kisses, Hospitals, M/M, Missing Scene, Sleep, Watching Someone Sleep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-05
Updated: 2018-01-05
Packaged: 2019-02-28 17:20:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13276230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InkSplodge/pseuds/InkSplodge
Summary: Due to the events of Canticle, Morse is still in hospital. Thursday waits by his side, worried the other may never fully recover mentally. Only time will tell what damage has been done, so Thursday waits, even if it is just to watch Morse breathe.





	1. Wait

**Author's Note:**

> Set during the ending of “Canticle”. Basically, when Thursday was in the hospital, brooding and waiting for Morse to wake, which was then followed by sleepy and smiley Morse, which was then followed with “What day is it?” and “Corned beef” – I knew I need more of these two.
> 
> First chapter is basically missing scene from the episode. It can be read without the second chapter and you can view their relationship how you want it to be (friendship, fatherly, romantic).   
> Second chapter is self-indulgent romance and experimental writing for myself, which follows on from the first chapter.

In reality it had only been two days. For Thursday, it had felt like a never-ending eternity.

Morse had the knack to getting himself into trouble, into pain. Thursday was sure it was just what the lad did - getting himself into all kinds of hurt. But every time Morse ran in head first, and _did_ get himself hurt, it was like someone swinging a cricket bat at his chest.

Thursday could hardly sleep when he knew Morse was in pain, whether the lad was healing at home, or worse, at the hospital.

Just like now.

They were incredibly lucky this time. Now it was waiting to see what time would tell, although for Thursday, that made it all worse.

With nothing for anyone to do, and with no nearby family, Thursday decided to keep a watchful eye over Morse out of curtsey. At least that was what he told everyone. Instead it was due to him wanting to be the one there when Morse finally woke up, wanted to be the one who checked on his state of mind. Then he could sleep.

Sitting and watching. That’s all he could do; waiting to see if the other would still be there, mentally, when he awoke.

Thursday’s thoughts became his background noise and his entertainment. No reading material or music insight, nothing to pass the time. Rather he dutifully sat at the foot of Morse’s bed and inspected every movement Morse made.

He’d noticed how the other didn’t move in his sleep, only to change position. But Morse looked peaceful, face and body relaxed, a mirror image from his usual wound-up self.

Hours after the incident though, Morse would move more frequently in his sleep. Pain etched his face as whimpers would escape the room. Thursday’s hope wilted when that had happened.

It was Friday now, and after a conversation with Bright at the station, Thursday had come down to stay with Morse. They expected today, or the next day, Morse would finally awake.

Now Thursday just had to wait some more. Now Thursday just watched the other breathe.


	2. And Wait

Stomach and chest. Up and down. Light and long. Up and down. Breathing and alive.

Sudden and surprising.

A full jerk upwards, Morse’s body moving from its position. To his feet, Thursday poised, ready to call for a nurse.

The moment passed.

_There was one in the bed and the little one said-_

Morse rolled to his front.

_Roll over, roll over-_

Dangerously close to the edge.

_So they all rolled over-_

Dangerously close to falling from the left side of the bed.  

_“Good night!”_

Head turned outwards and a longer breath.

Still in his place.

Shoulders and back. Up and down. Light and long. Breathing and alive.

Legs ached from sitting so long. They carry Thursday closer to Morse. Closer to inspect.

Peaceful. Morse looked peaceful. More than usual. Not wound-up. Not careless of his own safety. The curve of his lip - almost like a smile. A smile that is only for him. For Thursday.

Thursday’s hand to Morse’s head. Swiping back loose curls. Untidy hair. Morse wouldn’t like the untidiness.  

Tight curls. Fingers mess mindlessly. Soft. Slight damp from sweat. How Thursday imagined they would be – from the first time they met.

Eyes study over Morse.

Weird not seeing those blue eyes. Bright blue eyes. Eyes that search and study. Eyes that can bore holes into your soul. Morse’s striking feature.

Eyes study over Morse.

Eyelashes so long. Feminine.

Face so chiselled. Masculine.

Eyes study over Morse.

Vision falls to a bare right shoulder. In movement, vest strap must have fallen down. _Just being helpful,_ Thursday tries.

Fingers scrap against warm skin – strap back in place.

Would he be too hot? Under the sheets? Morse might want Thursday to remove them.

Maybe move the sheets lower – then move the sheets off – then remove his vest.

Thursday breaths.

Handful of times. Only a handful. Thursday had seen Morse in an abundance of clothing. More than socially right. But never so close. Never so personal.

Images flitter through his mind. Countless times join the sight before him. Something striking from those scenes.

Freckles. Freckled. Skin covered in the flaws. No. The features. Skin covered in the features.

Before him; shoulders freckled with freckles; face freckled with freckles.

Beautiful markings.

Wondering thoughts.

Do freckles littler the one before him? Every inch of Morse’s skin.

Over legs. Over torso.

Over thighs. Over stomach.

Over somewhere lower.

Thursday breaths.

Only certain times.

These thoughts cloud his mind: Late at night. When their skin brushes. A smile that is only for him. Morse nearly dying.

Thursday remembers.

How deeply.

How madly.

How in love he is.

With Morse.

Hesitant. Once more. Fingers swipe hair back.

A kiss lands onto Morse’s forehead.

Legs take Thursday back to his seat.

Eyes wonder over the one in the bed.

Thursday only wants him back.

Only one thing worse than the other dying – the other alive, but not there. Those eyes not recognising him. Those eyes with no spark.

Wondering thoughts.

A promise. To himself.

Declare his feelings – if Morse smiles at him, when he wakes. A smile that is only for him.

Declare his feeling.

Hands come to face – avoiding seeing, avoiding thinking, avoiding feeling.  

Can’t have these feelings. Can’t have these thoughts. Can’t have _him_.

Up and down. Light and long. Breathing and alive.

But a mind made-up is a mind assured.

He will declare, only if, only if there’s a smile.

Up and down. Light and long. Breathing and alive.

Thursday doesn’t see in the moment of breath.

Doesn’t see that Morse sees.

Doesn’t see those bright eyes on him and that bright smile for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The nursery rhyme near the start of the chapter is “Ten In A Bed”.


End file.
